Flames
by tenebrae di oblio
Summary: We all know that the 'Yellow-eyed' demon had the power to control flames...what if Sam did too? A vastly different take on Sam's powers, how he handled them and where they would take him. Rated T for swearing, and a little bit of gore.
1. Discoveries

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, I wish I did blah di blah di blah.**_

_**A/N: **_**Hey guys, I know that it's been a while since I posted anything but I lost my muse for quite a while…anyway, I now have my shit in gear so I am posting a new story, I have been writing this for a while and already have 10 or so chapters written, so I will be posting a new chapter to this every week or so, and I will tell you if anything comes up that means that I can't post the chapter for that week. **

**Anyway, tell me what you think, if you guys don't like it then tell me why, I could really use some constructive criticism so let me know how you receive it.**

**So, without further ado, I present this….**

**Flames**

Sam was 15 when it happened; he, his father and Dean had been tracking this witch for two weeks and had finally managed to track down and corner her in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. The witch, outnumbered and seeing them move in for the kill, had desperately sent out a wave of power, knocking his Dad and Dean back into the wall of the building, several shots from Sam's gun had kept her away long enough for him to ascertain that his family were not really hurt, just unconscious. After a few minutes of frantic dodging from spells and bullets alike, a clever move on the witch's part had allowed her to summon Dean away from the protective circle and hold a ritual knife to his throat.

For a moment all was still as the witch and Sam stared each other down, a second later Sam dropped the gun; there was no choice in his mind between killing the witch and saving his brother, and he wasn't yet skilled enough to do both. The witch was just starting to lower the knife when Dean groaned and weakly fought against her icy grip, the witch had panicked, raising the knife to plunge it into Dean's chest.

And that's when it happened.

A wave of hot power and pure fury washed over the youngest Winchester,

'How dare she?!' He seethed, 'How dare she try to hurt Dean!'

No one hurt _his _family and lived to tell the tale. No one.

The wave of power pushed outwards, rushing across the small space between him and the bitch that was trying to hurt his brother, heating the knife in her hand until it glowed ruby red and the witch was forced to drop it with a shriek of pain. She stared at him wide-eyed, releasing Dean in her shock and shakily stepping away from the infuriated teen. Sam stepped forward and the bitch froze in shock, unable to move, not even breathe as Sam strode towards her, placing himself between her and his unconscious brother without a hint of hesitation.

"You chose the wrong hunter to mess with." Sam growled, piercing her with a fierce glare, making her flinch at its sheer intensity; unbeknownst to him Sam's usually warm, soft green eyes had changed to an intense _burning _gold, a clear sign of the power that now flowed through him.

He raised his hand, pointing at the – still frozen – witch, and spoke in an icy tone that sent shivers down her spine, a complete opposite of the burning heat that he'd called forth earlier,

"If you had just left you would have lived." He stated softly, she could do nought but sob silently as his words brushed her senses, punctuated with power, "But you tried to hurt my family, and for that you must suffer."

The witch whimpered in terror and screamed as golden flames erupted around her, "Goodbye, Witch, you chose this path and now you will burn with it." He spoke darkly, bending down towards her blackened and dying form, "You shouldn't have tried to hurt Dean." He whispered, watching her burn until the light faded out of her eyes and she slumped to the ground in a blackened lump.

He left her burning as he stood up and went back over to Dean, and, with great effort, he managed to lift Dean over his shoulder and carry him back over to where their father lay slumped against the wall, he just about managed to move them both into comfortable positions before the power left him and he fell to the ground next to them, panting in exhaustion and staring at his hands in horror.

In the half an hour it took for Dean and his Dad to come round, and for the last ashes of the witch to settle on the Warehouse floor, Sam had come to his decision; he wouldn't tell his family, not Dean, Dad, Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, he wouldn't tell anyone, instead he would hone his new powers, train them until he had perfect control of the flames, then and only then would he even consider telling his family. So when they woke up, with his father demanding to know where the witch was, and Dean fussing over him and making sure he was okay, he lied, telling them that he'd shot her when she'd tripped over some rubble in a stupid mistake, pointing to the pile of ashes as his evidence.

Naturally Dean had been as proud as a peacock – not that he wasn't usually like that, but even prouder if that was possible, and since it was _Dean_… – that Sam had protected them and had had their backs when they had been knocked out and had so easily taken down the witch, his father hadn't really expressed his pride but the small smile on his face for the rest of the night was worth it.

The trio went home grinning and for a minute Sam was able to forget about his strange powers, simply enjoying his family's praise, his amnesia lasted for all of 24 hours before he caught his eyes glowing in the bathroom mirror the next afternoon and it all came flooding back to him. He packed up quickly and they were soon on the way to the next hunt. Since Dean was riding shotgun, Sam was able to practise making tiny flames appear on his palms, and although it was a good start he resolved not to try harder until he was able to get some time alone.

Over the next year or so, Sam grew more and more adept at controlling his flames. Two years later and Sam had near perfect control over his flames and could bend them to his will, then he started experimenting with his flames, their size, shape, colour, intensity, he played around with everything, slowly building a small repertoire of useful flame techniques that required more skill than just a "Point and Burn" move.

Finally, Sam was 18 and sneaking out in the dead of night having gained a scholarship at Stanford, he knew how his Dad and Dean would react if he told them that he was actually going to attend college, so he hadn't told them, leaving a letter filled with half truths about him going to hunt solo for a while and that he would call when he could and also to tell Bobby to keep in touch, he'd left the address of a drop off mail box so that he could receive letters along with his phone number and email address, just in case.

He knew 4 years at college would be the last taste of normalcy that he would get, with his ability he could never be normal, so he chose to study dead languages, along with ancient history, myths and legends as well as quite a few current languages as well; he reasoned that since he'd taught himself Latin and French just fine, then having actual teachers should make it a hell of a lot easier. In any case he would at least be able to get the correct books for learning said languages. Besides, he was going to have to go back to his Dad and Dean after this – even if he hadn't wanted to go back he was sure that he could never cut them out of his life completely – and if he was going to be able to convince them that his decision had been the right one then he should learn some useful things for hunting along the way; it was what he was going to do for the rest of his life after all so he might as well be prepared.

Despite his rather active life at college, he didn't stop hunting, if for no other reason than to keep his skills sharp, however he did stick solely to the Stanford area when hunting in a vain attempt to avoid other hunters, particularly his Dad, Dean and anyone else he might know. Speaking of said people that he knew, he had received a flood of angry emails and calls the day after he had left telling him how 'irresponsible' and 'idiotic' he was and to 'get his ass back to Bobby's right now or else.' A week of voicemails and calls later, a hasty hour of removing the GPS out of his phones and laptop and half a ton of angry conversations later and they'd finally come to an agreement; he had to call Dad and Dean every week, one call each, and Bobby every fortnight, and he had to immediately call if he was in trouble or injured.

He broke the last promise within a week when he broke his ankle in a tussle with a werewolf, the wolf went down but his ankle had been snapped in the process, his few college friends had been very helpful for the next six weeks as they carried his bags while he hobbled around on crutches.

By the time he was 19 and a year had passed he had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of hunting anything and everything in the area, calling Dean every Sunday night after getting off his reasonably well paying job as a bar tender at the local nightclub, leaving a voicemail for his Dad every Wednesday, and chatting with Bobby every other Thursday during his free period. He exercised every morning before he went to his first class and every other free weekend he would drive down to Pastor Jim's to collect supplies of silver bullets, holy water and the like.

The only time that he called his Dad and Dean outside of his schedule was when he was 20, when he called to tell them to be on the lookout for Vampires because he'd just taken out a nest of them on the edge of Stanford. It had been a huge surprise to run into one Vamp, let alone a nest, he'd thought that they were all extinct, after getting over his shock he set out with enough weapons to fill an army base, half a ton of salt and a small can of lighter fluid (it wasn't as if he needed it that much anyway.)

He'd gone in guns blazing and took out half of them within the first few seconds of fighting, it was almost dawn so most of the Vamps were tired and ready to sleep the day away so his attack had caught them all by surprise – and although he could have gone in during the day and burnt the whole barn down, Vamps included, he still risked killing any of the victims that were still alive and unturned in that scenario so this was the best he could come up with on such short notice, he had to deal with the bloodsuckers quickly because 10-11 of them (this was a large nest) could easily turn and wipe out whole towns if left alone.

From there it had been easy to pick off the remaining 6 or 7 of them at long distance, easily lighting most on fire and picking off the stragglers with well-aimed silver bullets. In fact the clean-up was the most tiring part of the hunt because he had to 'tag' each Vamp to make sure they were all dead before checking for any unturned victims – there were none – and disposing of all the evidence at the end by salting the whole barn and setting his aflame with a snap of his fingers.

He walked out of the barn with a few scratches and bruises but not in pieces and with no broken bones – thankfully the Vamps were too tired and full to move at full speed so picking them off was far easier than it would have been had he engaged them at midnight – and sent one last look at the orange flames licking up the sides of the barn before stowing away all of his weapons in his duffel and slinging it on his (well-earned) Triumph Commander and heading back to his apartment for a shower before he had to go to College.

As soon as he was through the door he'd dumped all his stuff on the couch, tossed his keys onto the table and headed straight for the shower for a good soak. After that he called his Dad and Dean, thanking God that they had decided to take a joint hunt for once, it would make telling them and their inevitable rants a hell of a lot easier, he called Dean and told him to turn on speaker phone and get his Dad while he was at it, Dean had grumbled about early morning calls and stupid little brothers before relenting, realising Sam wouldn't have called if it wasn't important, and rushing out of the room to get their Dad. He returned a few minutes later with their Dad in tow and had immediately asked what was wrong. Sam told them and that's when the conversation devolved into shouting:

"Vampires." Sam had said as soon as he got a word in.

"What?!" Dean asked incredulously, "What d'ya mean 'Vampires'?"

"I just wiped out a nest of them." Sam deadpanned, gaining a stunned silence from his listeners, "I called to tell you to be on the lookout for them, clearly they're not as rare as we thought." He said dryly.

"You took down a nest of Vampires." That was Dad.

"Yes." Sam replied.

"Just now?" "On your own?" Both Dean and Dad asked at the same time.

"Yes to both." Sam answered, sensing the inevitable explosion.

"Of all the irresponsible–" Dad again.

"You could've been killed–" Dean.

"How could you be so stupid–"

"Didn't have any back up–"

"–irresponsible–"

"–any brain in there?–"

"–half assed planning–"

"–supposed to be the smart one–"

"–could've asked us!"

Sam sighed and let them shout over each other for a full five minutes, keeping a wary eye on the clock so that he didn't miss his morning Ancient History class.

Finally they finished by saying, or rather shouting, in sync,

"What do you have to say for yourself?!"

And Sam replied by telling them that they were both mother hens, he had been hunting solo for the last two years and he's been okay without them, there weren't that many of the bloodsuckers anyway (a blatant lie, but oh well) and if he had needed help he would've gone to Bobby anyway since they were on the other side of the country from him, and this job needed to done quickly before the nest grew any more than it already had. His spiel had, thankfully, got them to shut up and he'd hung up after promising to call again in a few days and saying that he'd call Bobby and tell him about exponential increase in the Vampire activity.

The call to Bobby 5 minutes later had been better, but only just; Bobby had thoroughly chastised him for taking on a whole nest of Vamps on his own when he had no practical experience with Vampires in the first place. Sam had apologised – as Bobby had a better point than his Dad or Dean – and had made the same promise to Bobby as he had to his Dad and Dean before ending the call and rushing out of the apartment to get to his first class.

XXX

_**Yes, yes the ending was a little abrupt, and I apologise for that but finding good cut off points while trying to keep the chapters short and flowing is a lot harder that I thought….i am far too used to writing one shots…**_

_**So, let me know what you think about it and whether you like it, the next chapter will be up around Friday if you guys like it before I go back to weekly updates. **_

_**Reviews are lovely, **_

_**Tenebrae xx**_


	2. Hunters and Bars

**A/N: Hi I had some interesting reviews for the last chapter and a lot of good tips and comments for the rest of the story. So I have taken them into account and I hope that you like the next chapter, so without further ado here you go…**

Three days after his takedown of the nest, Sam had received an interesting call from a hunter called Gordon Walker, he's been warned by Bobby that the so called 'Vampire expert' would try to contact him at some point but he hadn't been expecting it to be so soon. After a lengthy conversation of general hunting experiences and negotiating they had finally agreed to meet in a well-known hunter's bar in a week so that they could discuss the actual take down of the nest – both were seasoned hunter and so had a general paranoia about talking about sensitive hunter information over the phone.

Sam hadn't really minded talking to Walker and really didn't care about the talk with him about the Vamp nest, but it would be good to meet some hunters that weren't already best-buds with his Dad and had known him from childhood, and it had the added bonus of throwing his Dad and Dean off of his trail – he wasn't an idiot, he knew that they were trying to track him down and had been for the past two years – a load of witnesses seeing him away from Stanford could only be good in his books, that way they would be less likely to look for him there, call him paranoid (he was) but it was a relevant thought.

So Sam spent his free week making his way slowly across the country to the Road House in Nebraska, he stopped mid-week for a simple salt and burn in a little town called 'Mayland', it took him two days to track down the ghost and burn its bones before he was back on the road. He reached the Road House a little over an hour before his arranged meeting so decided to scope out the place in the mean time before his talk with Walker – maybe even gather some info on the man before he met him in person, specifically what other hunters thought of him and perhaps his motivation to become a hunter in the first place.

Upon first impression the bar didn't look like much, a little run down maybe but clean and homey, a closer look revealed the true nature of the bar itself, the whole bar, no, in fact, the whole room was covered head to toe with carved sigils and warding for protection, they were faint and easily disguised into the wall paper but they were there and easy to find if you really knew what you were looking for.

He could see a few other hunters dotted around the bar before he spotted a familiar face,

"Caleb?" He mused aloud, catching the attention of the man in question.

"Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe." Caleb grinned, walking over so that they could grasp each other's forearms in a friendly greeting.

"Didn't expect to see you here." Sam confessed as Caleb led him over to an empty table.

"Didn't even think you knew about this place." Caleb replied in turn, "Now what's this I hear about you going solo?" He asked, his tone light but with an underlying threat.

"Hunting with Dad and Dean was all well and good but I needed some time away, so I left." Sam explained easily.

"Got your Dad and brother in a right state though." Caleb grinned, "Didn't even mention going solo once and then one night 'poof', you're gone; they kicked up a right mess trying to track you down and drag you back. When I tell them that I saw you _here _– of_ all _places – they'll kill me for not bringing you back."Caleb smirked.

"I knew what they'd say if I ever mentioned leaving to go hunt solo, they'd never let me out of their sight again. And I needed to get away for a while, as much as I love them they know how to push my buttons – and they do it very often – and I could feel the blow up coming, I had to leave before we all hit breaking point and said things that we would all regret." Sam explained.

Caleb nodded in understanding before abruptly changing the subject – Sam was a little stressed (from what he could tell) and didn't need to be grilled by him, Sam's family could and would grill him later,

"So…what brings you down here? This isn't a casual visit is it?"

Sam told him what he'd told his Dad, Dean and Bobby, keeping his voice quiet so that the other hunters around the bar wouldn't hear him, and then he told Caleb about his meeting with Gordon Walker.

Caleb frowned when he heard about the meeting, mulling over his words before giving Sam some helpful advice about what sort of man (and hunter) Gordon Walker actually was,

"He's a great hunter," Caleb confessed, "I've worked with him a couple of times, but personality wise he's cruel and unrelenting when it comes to the supernatural. Anything supernatural is evil in his books and nothing that anyone can say or do will change that. Most people start hunting to protect people from the monsters out there, most often have a bad experience with a monster and hunt them to stop what happened to them from happening to other people. But Walker's different, he hunts for the sake of hunting, he does it purely out of revenge against the monsters that hurt him, he hunts solely to kill monsters, not to protect people. He'll even have a go at psychics and mediums, won't really hunt them, but he makes his stance pretty clear; he won't hesitate to kill a medium or psychic if there's even a hint of them going bad. He's bad news Sam."

Sam frowned darkly, this Walker sounded like the exact opposite of him, but he would reserve judgement until he met the man, so he kept his thoughts to himself and steered the conversation away from his upcoming meeting with Gordon Walker,

"So, who owns this place?" Sam asked, genuinely curious about who had the reason and want to create a bar like this and ward it with everything they could find.

"Ellen Harvelle runs this bar along with her daughter Jo." Caleb replied, "They set this place up as a safe place for hunters after the death of Ellen's husband and Jo's father Bill. This place is warded to hell and back."

"Not quite." Sam muttered before he could stop himself.

"Oh, is that warding not good enough for your tastes?" The stern voice of, who he assumed to be, Ellen Harvelle cut through the air, halting all conversations in their tracks.

"Yes the warding is extensive," Sam turned to the bar and paused to plan his answer, " But there are a few…'holes' for lack of a better word, that enemies could take advantage of."

"Like what?" She asked, eyes narrowing.

"You haven't warded against fire – some creatures use that – or a few of the lesser known, and nastier, of the Japanese varieties (ofuda would be useful for that), I could put in some corner stones, and Ancient Sumerian wards would keep almost everything out…Warding against wind, water, earth, shadow, lightning and general wearing would be useful as well…" Sam petered off, still looking thoughtful as Caleb, Ellen and those hunters near enough to hear their conversation (which was all of them) stared at him in shock.

Ellen was quick to snap out of her shock though, "If you can put them all up then I will reward you with anything in my power to give."

"Information; any information you have on a 'yellow-eyed demon' and Mary Winchester nee Campbell." Sam was quick to reply, "Do that and I can have all the wards up before I leave."

"Done." Ellen agreed, "Can I have the name of the man warding my bar?" She grinned.

"Sam Winchester." Sam replied, "I'll get started then." He continued at her nod, reaching for his previously unnoticed duffel and rummaging around for some premade ofudas, happy to see that he had a good amount left over from the last time he'd sat down to make them, he placed the folder of ofudas on the table along with a thick leather bound book, a scalpel pen and a 4 large smoky quartz crystals.

"Packing for a siege there Sam?" Caleb joked.

"I usually don't ward public place this extensively (getting caught would suck) but I always put down the crystals and the ofudas, and I always have my scalpel pen on me just in case." Sam grinned back.

Ellen smirked slightly at his answer, although he wasn't the most paranoid hunter she had met, she could certainly respect the patience and knowledge needed to be able to ward this extensively if he so wished; not many had that knowledge, even less could apply it on this scale and none were as young as Sam.

Sam pulled out a handful of the rice paper wards from the folder, walking around the room to stick them on every corner, above each door and window, then under and over the bar and main counter as well, he completed the ward with a long string of Japanese. He then spent the next 15 minutes floating around the room, cutting long strings of Latin, Japanese and Ancient Sumerian into the walls and the main counter; he even climbed on a chair to place several on the ceiling and above the doors, doubling back to check his wards against the thick black tome sitting on the table.

Finally he asked a rather bemused Ellen for a shovel (which she gave him) and walked out of the door – followed by his watchers – pulling out a compass from his pocket and swiftly burying the crystals in the North, South, East and West corners of the building, around 6 meters away from each wall and, after muttering another long string of some unknown language (Latin), he returned inside and flopped into his chair, absently pulling out a roll of bandages to wrap his hand, placing away his supplies and then turning back to Ellen to explain what the hell he'd just done.

"That should keep nearly everything out but if something does burn through them, which you will know about because it will make a huge noise when the crystals shatter." Sam explained, "Now I'm gonna nap, wake me up when Walker gets here."

The latter part was directed at Caleb and he pillowed his head in his hands and dozed off – the wards had taken a huge chunk out of his power because his wards were powered by energy from his pyro-kinesis, that was the main reason why he could ward so easily, for most it took energy from their soul and was therefore very draining, his didn't so he could do more and ward more extensively.

"Scary kid." Caleb muttered, keeping his voice low and pulling out his phone to call Dean and brag that he'd seen Sam.

"Kid?" Ellen inquired.

"He's only 20, maybe 21." Caleb explained, holding the phone away from his ear as Dean yelled at him.

Ellen whistled at that; Sam was even younger that she thought, his warding knowledge was very impressive considering his age,

"And what's this about a meeting with Walker?" Truthfully, from what little she knew about the Winchesters, and from what she could tell about Sam's personality she didn't think he was the type to hang around hunters like Gordon Walker.

"Sam here took down a nest of Vamps the other week, you know what Walker's like with Vampires." Caleb rolled his eyes.

"Like a dog with a bone." Ellen nodded.

"Keep an eye on him please Ellen; this place is supposed to safe for hunters, make sure he knows that when he comes here again." Caleb sighed, "That kid's too kind for his own good; especially in our world."

"When he comes here again?" She asked wryly, not questioning the second part of his statement.

"He'll come again; if only to check on the wards." Caleb grinned, "That's the type of guy he is."

Ellen didn't reply, throwing an inscrutable look at Sam before wandering back over to the bar, leaving Caleb to watch over the sleeping Winchester, something that Caleb had no trouble doing while he relayed the day's events to Dean on the other end of the phone.

For a while the bar was quiet, hushed conversations between paranoid hunters filling the air with muffled whispers while most of the hunters just enjoyed the silence, this continued until Gordon Walker entered the bar, almost 45 minutes late for his meeting with Sam.

He was instantly recognised by both Ellen and Caleb, the former of which told Walker that Sam was still here and to wait at the booth in the far corner while the latter woke Sam, an easy but not completely painless task; Caleb had never learnt the Sam Winchester wake-up technique that Dean and John seemed to have mastered and was completely unprepared when the hand that he had placed on Sam's shoulder was grabbed, twisted around his back and used as leverage to slam his head and torso into the table.

Sam blinked sleepily for a few moments before he sheepishly realised that he had Caleb pinned to the table and released the wincing man, grinning apologetically,

"Walker's here then?" Sam practically stated.

"Yeah," Caleb winced, rolling his shoulder, "Remind me never to wake you up again."

"You just don't know how to wake me up properly, but duly noted anyway," Sam smirked, glancing at Ellen who motioned to the corner booth, "I'll talk to you after 'kay?" He glanced back to Caleb.

"Sure," Caleb replied, watching Sam grab his duffel and walk over to the shadowed corner booth and silently vowing to keep a close eye on him.

Sam walker purposefully over to the corner booth where he greeted Gordon Walker with a firm handshake, absently discarding his duffel under the table, before sitting down to talk business. The first 10-15 minutes was spent by Sam recalling his Vampire nest hunt with Gordon asking the odd question or confirming something here and there – he'd kicked himself when he'd found out that decapitation was the method used for killing Vampires, but thankfully Walker had said that if the bodies had completely burned to ash (which he knew they had) then there was no way the Vampires could come back from that.

After that Sam spent some time asking Gordon various questions and finding out how the other man got into the hunting business in the first place; as it turned out a Vampire had turned his sister and Gordon had hunted down both the Vamp and his sister and killed them both. Sam wasn't sure how he would have reacted in Gordon's place, although one thing was for certain; he couldn't kill Dean, he knew that he could never kill his brother, that wasn't who he was.

That led them into how Sam got into the hunting scene, he told the truth for the most part; something killed his mother when he was a baby, grew up hunting, now separate from family and hunting solo, he did not mention "yellow-eyes" and kept the conversation as far away from special abilities and psychics as he could to avoid an awkward situation or an argument.

It worked well, in fact the only conflict they had, came when Gordon asked him to help out in any cases where there was a whole nest of Vampires present, by nest he meant over 5 vampires present in one area at the same time. Sam was understandably reluctant to agree, but gave in under the condition that he was free when Gordon called him, said hunter could understand his condition and they left on amicable terms.

After a busy day Sam was anxious to get back to his apartment, despite the fact that it would take him a day or two even if he drove for as long as he could, so he waited until Gordon left to get up and say his goodbyes to Caleb (who he promised to keep in touch with, and call at least once a fortnight) and Ellen (who promised to have his information ready soon and to give him a call so that he could collect it in person) and then he was out the door, with his duffel attached to his bike within seconds and flying down the highway back to Palo Alto.

XXX

**Did ya like it?**

**I hope that you did, again reviews would be lovely and please point out any mistakes that I have made. **

**Right, so I shall update once per week from now on, every week you shall get an update. **

**So this is Tenebrae, signing out. **


	3. Homecoming

**A/N: It's a day late….Tuesday was yesterday Tenebrae….bad author! BAD!**

**But yeah, here's the next instalment…I'm doing quite well with the updates at the moment so you can expect one more in a couple days…although it's not for this fic, it's for 'Rules for Surviving the Winchesters' which I have been really stuck on for a while now but I think that it should be out pretty soon. So enjoy it XD**

**And without further ado here's the next chapter!**

**Homecoming**

The next 2 years passed on without problem, he picked up a few of the information packets about "yellow-eyes", who was apparently a demon called Azazel, and his mother, which he planned to show to both Dean and his Dad when he started hunting with them again, there was also a surprising packet of data about the Winchesters – apparently Dad hadn't been the first hunter in the family – which he planned to surprise them all with. He was now 22 and had sat his final exams a few weeks ago; astonishingly he had passed all of his courses with flying colours and had the line-up for an excellent resume.

His careers meeting had been enjoyable when he'd been asked what job he was going into and had promptly replied that he was going into the family business, when asked what this was he'd merely told them that it involved animals, history and dead languages, receiving a baffled look from his career counsellor that had left him smiling for the rest of the day.

Tomorrow he was finally going to meet up with his Dad, Dean and Bobby, and had spent the last week moving most of his belongings into a little storage container in the outskirts of town, he hadn't realised how much stuff he had collected over his 4 years in college and now owned a small library of rare and delicate books, boxes of warding equipment and an arsenal of weapons to stock a small army base, all of which he gently packed in a small metal trailer with a roof and space for a padlock that he planned to take with him to Bobby's. He'd been surprised to find that most of his wardrobe was leather, of course it made sense as he owned a bike, but he thought that he at least had some more plaid shirts, to find out that he didn't have any led him to the nearest mall in search of some non-leather clothing.

He took one last look at his empty apartment and checked that he hadn't forgotten anything before locking up, dropping off the key in the apartment manager's post box and riding out of town with two large duffels of clothing and the small trailer attached to his bike, heading to the airport.

Due to a guy that his Dad and Dean had helped out he'd been able to get a plane over to South Dakota so that he only had to drive for an hour or so compared to the 26 hour drive he would have had had he not taken a plane. It had been never wracking getting all his weapons, trailer and bike through Airport security but his inside man had helped a lot in that regard in getting it all loaded into the cargo area, finally after 4 hours of turbulence and another hour of customs and waiting for his bike and trailer to be unloaded he was back on the road and on his way to Bobby's.

On the ride there he had time to rehearse how he was going to explain about going to college and his flame powers – which he now had near perfect control of – to his family, he was considering telling Ellen and Caleb after that as they had grown closer over the last two years, and he didn't even think about telling Gordon Walker – he knew that despite their friendly relationship, Walker would throw it away in a heartbeat if he found out.

He'd recently reached a new level of control over his powers where he could turn his own body into flame, he always had his head and torso in this state for hunting as it had saved his arse more than once. Although that didn't mean that he hadn't gained some new scars…and a tattoo that Dean would kill him for. It was a complete pentagram, spanning a fist sized area over his heart, it was surrounded by flames and had runes written in it to protect against possession.

Another obvious change was his hair which he'd grown out so that it covered the nape of his neck and barely brushed his shoulders. His last change, apart from his bike and consequential wardrobe shift, were three scars running parallel across his neck from where a werewolf has almost torn his throat out, that was the first time that he'd turned his body into flame and it had stopped the wolf's claws from slicing his jugular open, but the three parallel scars served as a reminder of how lucky he'd been that day.

So lost in his thoughts, Sam didn't realise how close he was to Bobby's until he was only a few turns away, and he hurriedly pulled himself back into the present before he had an accident. Not 10 minutes later he was pulling into Bobby's yard, he noticed the Impala and his Dad's Truck were already parked outside the house, which meant that his family was already there. But he grinned when no one seemed to realise his arrival as he turned off the motor and slid off his helmet and pulled his duffels off the bike and over his shoulder, tucking the helmet under his arm he shoved his keys into his pocket before pulling out his set of lock picks, and letting himself into the dimly lit hallway before moving into the living room.

It was early, far too early to get up but too late to go to sleep, and he stayed as quiet as possible as he moved papers and books from the couch, flopping onto the comfortable leather with a soft thump and setting his helmet and duffels on the floor as he did. He absently picked a random book from the discarded pile and curled up on the sofa, settling in for a long wait for his family to get up.

It was mid-morning and Sam was exhausted, he'd spent some time in the bathroom earlier, getting washed and changing into a new set of clothes (still leather, he'd decided that he wanted to save the small amount of plaid he had) before returning to the comfortable sofa, choosing another book from the pile on the table to read since he'd finished the first. Bobby had gotten up a few hours after that at around 10am, but hadn't noticed him due to the fact that he'd only entered the kitchen to get breakfast and had then trudged to his study and hadn't been seen since.

It was only around 11am, when Dean and his Dad had gotten up, that his presence was even noted, and it was Dean who had loudly asked where the "gorgeous bike" had come from. When his Dad and Bobby had replied with "what bike" all three had gathered by the window to stare at his red and black Triumph Commander parked innocently in the front yard.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Was Bobby's next question.

"No idea." Dean replied.

"It wasn't there last night." John helpfully added.

"Demons?" Dean added, "They can possess humans after all. Or maybe another hunter?"

John looked speculative.

Sam decided to cut off further speculation about the bike and her rider by loudly saying,

"God you three are unobservant." In his best and most innocent tone.

Three heads whipped around to stare at him sitting comfortably on the couch and saluting them with a glass of holy water from Bobby's kitchen.

"Sam?" Dean whispered, although Sam could hear it just fine.

"Yeah," He answered, saving them all the time by sprinkling salt into his holy water and downing it before making a small cut on his hand with a silver knife and reciting the first few words of the Latin exorcism, "Don't all greet me at once," He joked, grinning at the three dumbfounded hunters.

Dean was the first one to move, vaulting over the couch and bowling Sam over as he pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Sammy." Dean grinned, practically suffocating Sam with his strong grip.

"Yes I missed you too Dean." Sam deadpanned.

As soon as Dean let go of him Sam was crushed by his father and then Bobby as they took turns to suffocate him.

After a long reunion Sam turned to Dean and grinned,

"So you think my bike is 'gorgeous' eh?" Sam teased.

"It's nice," Dean grumbled secretly enjoying the friendly ribbing, "How'd you even afford her?"

Sam sighed, slumping into the soft sofa, "A few weeks after I left I hunted a trio of Werewolves that were terrorising a guy that they'd had a grudge against when they were human. I saved the guy, killed the Weres but my back got mangled in the process, in return the man gave me one of his bikes (said he had too many anyway) and covered my hospital bills. Really nice guy though, no idea why the Weres hated him so much, my research didn't turn up anything…" He trailed off when he noticed the trio of angry and horrified looks that he was receiving.

"Define 'mangled.'" All three growled in eerie synchronicity.

Sam rolled his eyes but relented, removing his leather jacket and turning around before removing his scarf and shirt.

There was a stunned silence as his collective family took in the scars spanning Sam's upper back and shoulders; he hadn't been kidding when he said 'mangled'; in sets of four the scars criss-crossed across his shoulder blades, they were thin and pale but easily recognisable if you were looking for them.

"Fuck Sammy," Dean breathed, horrified at the mass of white lines.

"I was in hospital for a few weeks, Matt (the guy I saved) told them that it was a bear attack and that I'd pushed him out of the way." Sam explained, pausing to let that sink in before turning around and dropping another two bombshells onto the – still stunned – trio.

"Scars first or tattoo?" Sam asked, breaking the silence again and pointing to them in order.

"Scars." Dean all but demanded, stepping forward to trace the three trenches in Sam's neck with his fingers.

"'Nother Were, when I was 20. I was distracted because my other scars were acting up and it got me by surprise." Sam explained shortly.

"How'd you survive that?" John asked, having moved to inspect the scars himself, "These look quite deep."

"It's a long story," Sam sighed, "I'll explain after the tattoo." He promised.

"So _why _do you have a tattoo?" John all but demanded.

"It's a protection symbol," Sam explained patiently, "It stops me form being possessed…by _anything_."

"Even demons?" Dean asked, now looking at the tattoo in a new light.

"Especially demons." Sam replied.

"Nice." Dean grinned, "Where can I get one?" He asked, noting that their Dad and Bobby seemed to be nodding in agreement.

"Own design," Sam replied, "Get a tattoo artist to do it, though I'll have to make sure that all the runes are in the right place."

"Great." John nodded, "Now explain that scar on your neck." He said, smile slipping from his face.

"Later." Sam hurriedly moved on, "I still have to tell you a few things first." He explained at their looks, and sighed as they relented.

"I went to college." He deadpanned, "I hunted in between my classes and before you explode I took dead and current languages and ancient history/mythology; it'll make hunting easier."

Bobby nodded in agreement, John and Dean considered it for a second before grudgingly agreeing that it _would _help them on certain hunts…although Sam was still an idiot.

"What's the other news?" Bobby spoke up when it was clear that Dean and John were too busy mentally grumbling to care.

"It would be easier to show you." Sam winced at the sharp look that was thrown at him and motioned to the yard, he ignored the looks that were thrown at him as he led them away from the two cars and his bike; the short walk gave him a little time to go over what he wanted to show them, though it did nothing to calm his nerves.

A few – far too short in Sam's opinion – minutes later and they were standing in a deserted area of the yard with a good 20m either way of clear space; it was a good place to practise and Sam resolved to use it more often.

"So…what's this all about?" John asked, somewhat impatiently.

"This." Sam stated, holding up a hand and willing a fireball into existence.

Stunned silence washed across the yard as six eyes stared at the ball of flames sitting in Sam's palm, and three brains ascertained that it must be a trick, a good trick, clever by any standards but Sam's, but a trick nonetheless.

"That's a little more than smoke and mirrors," Dean joked, "How'd you do it?" He asked curiously.

Sam sighed, he'd hoped that denial wouldn't be one of the reactions, but he should've expected it from Dean of all people; their family wasn't exactly the most accepting for psychics – no Hunter was.

"It's real Dean." Sam tried again, using the ball of fire to ignite some pre-prepared paper to show that it was actual flame and not an illusion of sorts.

Dean's grin faltered as he took in the reality that Sam was the one doing this, and that this was not a trick, that Sam, his _brother, _might not be human…though he dearly hoped that this had not changed him in any way.

"Dad, Dean, Bobby…I'm not sure _how _I can do this, or _what _I might be…but I can control fire, all forms of it, Pyro kinesis basically." Sam gulped at the look of suspicion that he was receiving from John but inwardly smiled at the lack of suspicion – and dare he say looks of comfort – that he was getting from Dean and Bobby, "I'm still the same person who hunted with you, I'm the same kid that cried after his first kill, I'm the same brother you grew up with or son that you raised, I'm the same teen who left 4 years ago to go to college and hunt solo; this power hasn't changed me, I'm still _me, _I'm still _Sam." _

There was a pregnant pause while Dean, John and Bobby considered his words before Dean grinned and stepped forward,

"So what can you do?"

Sam grinned, unable to hide his relief, snapping his fingers together and letting the small sparks produced dance across his hands as he cheekily replied,

"All kinds of things." Sam smirked, a huge gout of flame swirling around him to form into a terrifying fiery wolf, the beast came up to Dean's waist as it prowled around the elder brother, form flickering as fire danced across the pseudo fir.

"That's Sŭ," Sam grinned, waving his hands to create a huge fox and a tiger, the fox was the same size as the wolf, with the tiger about half a foot bigger, "The fox is Sǎmu and the tiger is Gaišs."

"Sŭ, Sǎmu and Gaišs?" Dean parroted, "How the hell did you come up with those names? And why name them at all?"

"They're Ancient Sumerian," Sam explained, "Sŭ means 'red', Sǎmu means 'sky' and Gaišs means 'light'." He made another motion with his hand and a huge eagle along with a female lion coalesced into being, "These two are Sacha (cloud in Incan) and Kuelap (named after the Chachapoyan citadel.)"

"History nerd." Dean teased.

Sam snorted, "As if I wasn't already. And you can't say anything about me naming my creations given how much you dote on 'Baby'." He grinned, letting the fiery animals fade from existence while Dean grumbled about 'stupid little brothers that didn't respect his car'.

"So what does this have to do with the scars on your neck?" Bobby asked, putting two and two together.

"Ah, well," Sam fidgeted uncomfortably while he tried to work out how best to tell them how badly he'd fucked up, "Half a year or so ago I got so good at controlling my powers that I learnt a new trick; I became able to turn my body itself into flames," Sam sent the three gaping listeners a sharp look to prevent them from commenting so that he could finish the story before he lost his nerve, "It was very useful on hunts as I could keep my vital areas in flame mode so that I wouldn't be injured when I got caught. But the trick itself I learnt on a hunt; I got distracted by the scars on my back playing up, didn't realise that they were a warning at the time, and a werewolf almost tore out my jugular, the only reason that it didn't was because I turned my whole upper body into flame subconsciously, I stopped the Were from ripping my arteries and veins open. I turned it to ash in retaliation but the damage was done, I bandaged it up and rushed to hospital, told them a story about a wild dog, then fixed me up and I stayed low for two months so that it could heal – I was lucky that it was summer break at the time – the scars are a reminder not to get distracted on the job." Sam concluded, waiting for the inevitable blow-up.

He didn't have to wait long.

All three men abruptly began shouting over themselves in their need to properly tell Sam how much of an idiot he had been; Sam wasn't able to make out most of what they were saying but he caught more than a few curse words and insults thrown his way. He took this all in stride, considering that he'd almost killed himself after the event for his own stupidity, he thought that he deserved every word.

Finally they stopped, finishing with a "And you will _always, __**always, **_tell us when you are injured", Sam frantically nodded as Dean looked smug, John looked stern and Bobby looked exasperated, he had no idea what they had just said but if growing up with these three had taught him anything it was not to contradict anything said during a verbal beat down/scolding, it never ended well.

Dean nodded once in Sam's direction before turning heel and walking back towards the house, Sam followed at a more subdued place, twitching from the looks aimed at his back.

That night he all but sagged in relief when he escaped to his and Dean's room; they had stopped shooting annoyed looks at him just after their take out dinner. He's found this incredibly annoying; yes he knew he had been an idiot, but did they have to glare at him for the rest of the day? Due to this he hadn't been able to concentrate, he hadn't got any work done with the unpacking of his books or showing his information about the demon and their Mum to John and Dean, he hadn't been able to work on his bike and he hadn't been able to escape to his room because Dean had commandeered it for the day. All in all the day had been wasted, and Sam planned to make them pay for it…

…by setting their cars on fire, thankfully his control over his flames had gotten to the point where they would only burn what he told them too, so the flames would just sit on top of the car and scare the pants off of his Dad and Dean for wasting his day. He was sure Dean would try to kill him but he could turn into flames at any time so he was sure that he could escape if necessary…

…probably…

…Dean wouldn't fully kill him, just a little, he would recover. Eventually.

…

…

Maybe this wasn't the best idea, but Dean would find the sight of their Dad's truck on fire hilarious; he hated that truck, daring to think that it was important enough to replace his Baby…Dean was such a car freak.

Speaking of Dean…Said brother strode through the open door of their shared room, carrying a tray with two large mugs sat squarely on top of it. Dean grinned and sat the tray on the small table in the room, carrying the two mugs over to where Sam was sitting on the bed, Sam grinned and took the offered mug, practically inhaling the chocolaty goodness as Dean slumped onto the bed next to him; it was decided, there was no way he was setting the Impala on fire, not after Dean had brought him hot chocolate, he and Dean could just laugh at John's panicked expression while he tried to put out the flames on his truck.

"So…" Dean started, breaking the comfortable silence, "How was your time at college?"

Sam looked up, surprised; he hadn't really expected Dean to broach this subject of all things,

"It was informative." He replied, not knowing whether Dean really wanted to know or if he just wanted to talk for the sake of talking.

"No really, I want to know what you did. Any girlfriends? Friends? What about the Exams? Just tell me what it was like." Dean explained, sensing Sam's doubt.

"Well, I didn't have a girlfriend for one thing," Dean looked doubtful, "No really, I knew that I was going to come back to hunting, and I was also hunting at the time, I didn't think that someone else should have to put up with the constant fear that I was going to die every week when I went out to hunt. I had a few friends, mostly guys and a couple of girls, there was one girl, Jess, that I would've gone out with if I wasn't a hunter, she was funny, intelligent, sweet and we got on really well. Out of my other friends I would say that I was closest with Brady and Xander; they were the ones that helped me out while I was injured after hunts, and they never asked questions about why. Exam wise, they were stressful, I found them quite manageable but they were so stressful, there was so much build up to them and the exams were long and exhausting."

Dean looked horrified, "And you did that every year?"

"On top of the 50 odd hours of coursework, yes." Sam snorted at Dean's look of abject terror.

"_And _you passed up having a girlfriend because you were hunting?!" Dean looked as if the concept alone was absurd, "Did you even get laid over the past 4 years?"

Sam sighed, throwing an annoyed look at Dean, "That's none of your business, but yes I got laid."

Dean gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, Sam smacked him over the head for it.

"So what did you do?" Sam asked, "Did you just hunt all the time?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Dean replied, "I worked solo most of the time but sometimes I teamed up with Caleb, Bobby, Dad or other hunters to get the job done…especially when I knew that I was in over my head." He threw an accusing look at Sam.

"Hey, I had it handled, and I couldn't really risk working with other hunters, word might have made it back to you." Sam explained defensively, "I knew that I could handle all of the hunts I went on, and I'm alive so there's no need to argue about it."

"You got injured, though, those scars on your back and neck and probably loads of other injuries that you haven't told us about." Dean responded.

Sam shrugged, "Scars are part of life Dean, and even if I did want another hunter with me some of those cases were time sensitive enough that not acting within a few days could get dozens of people killed. The Vamp nest was a prime example of that. And there was no guarantee that having another hunter would've prevented my injuries, there is a certain level of trust involved in hunting and even if I had trusted them then there was no rule saying that they would trust me; I could've made the case worse. And before you say anything, you were halfway across the country for most of those hunts, and the other half you were mid hunt."

Dean huffed but dropped the subject, but Sam knew that he'd never be able to solo hunt again if Dean had anything to say about it.

"Ok Sasquatch, bed time." Dean grinned, ducking Sam's annoyed swipe at his head, "But seriously, shower and bed, you were driving all last night and only got here this morning."

Sam groaned at Dean's ability to always know when he wasn't his best, but relented, passing the mug back to Dean, who took them and the tray back downstairs, before trudging to the shower, tomorrow was going to be good; he couldn't wait to see his Dad's face when he saw that his car was on fire.

XXX

**And that's a wrap. As always review please. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Tenebrae**


	4. Start of the Gun Hunt

**A/N: Heya! Sorry that this is late…..I had my AS mocks all week, and next week too, so I have been in a constant state of nerves and revision. **

**Anyway here is the chapter…a little information overload here but meh, that how I wrote it and I am happy with it so I am not going to go back and change it now. **

**Enjoy!**

**Start of the Gun Hunt**

The next day Sam got up early, feeling well rested despite the all-nighter he'd pulled the other day, and snuck downstairs and out the front door, gazing at the large black truck parked in front of the house. A smile crept up his face as he thought about what he was about to do, then he pointed at the car somewhat dramatically, despite the lack of any audience, and sent a jet of flame roaring towards the hood, the flames burst on contact with the cool metal, rippling around the car at his will and consuming the car in seconds. He made sure that all of the heat that the flames gave out (an admittedly small amount) went up instead of into the metal, this way the car looked on fire but wasn't actually burning. Doing this took concentration, but not much, so he was able to keep it up for a few hours, and a few hours was all that he would need.

Two hours later, Dean came down, seeing Sam sitting happily on the couch reading a book, his gaze wandered over to the window and he saw the flames consuming the car and did the first thing that came to mind; he snorted, paled and then ran upstairs to wake their Dad.

Less than a minute later John was running down the stairs, followed by Dean and Bobby carrying buckets of water, which they hurriedly threw over the car. The flames hissed and steamed before flaring up higher than ever, much to the surprise of John and Dean, Bobby had already figured it out when he spotted Sam sitting on the couch with a smirk on his face.

"It's not going to work." Bobby told John when he went to fetch the hose from around the back.

"Why not?!" John demanded furiously.

"The flames aren't natural." Bobby explained.

"Are they demonic?" Dean asked frantically.

"They're mine." Sam interrupted before they went too far with the demon theory…again, what was with his family and demons?

Dean paused, gazing at the flaming car, before bursting into laughter.

"I always said that that truck was hideous and should be burned!" Dean chortled, walking over to Sam and giving him a thumbs up as they watched the flames licking over the car.

John spluttered for a moment before stalking back inside to go back to sleep, he would chew out Sam once he got a few more hours of sleep.

"Idjit." Bobby grunted, tone filled with amusement, as he went to fix up some breakfast.

"How'd you do it?" Dean asked eagerly.

"I have perfect control over my flames, so I can stop the heat from reaching the metal and burning the car." Sam explained.

"Awesome." Dean grinned, "Does that take a lot of effort?"

"Not really." Sam replied, "It was easy to do once I learned how."

"So, why d'ya do it?" Dean asked curiously.

"He didn't let me concentrate yesterday, and stared at me for the whole day. You redeemed yourself by getting me hot chocolate; otherwise the Impala would be on fire as well." Sam replied.

Dean paled and thanked any deity out there that he'd decided to make Sam hot chocolate when he was making himself coffee; he had no desire to see his Baby on fire.

"I would've killed you for it though." Dean added.

"I can turn incorporeal." Sam smirked smugly.

"Fuck."

Sam chuckled, extinguishing the flames covering the truck with a thought, and leading the way back inside; he had something to show his family and he'd rather do it sooner than later.

"Dean," Sam started before they sat down, "We're gonna need Dad and Bobby for this, it's something that I need to tell all of you."

Dean nodded, walking off to drag their dad back down from his room while Sam coaxed Bobby out of the kitchen.

"So what's this all about Sam?" John asked once they were all seated, as far as he could see Sam was just rooting through his duffel.

"These." Sam replied, finally pulling three files out of his duffel and slapping them onto the table, "The red one contains all the information I could find about Mum and her family – let me tell you now that it's not what you think –, and the yellow one contains all the information that me and Ellen could find about yellow-eyes.

There was a stunned silence for a moment while the three hunters stared at the two files before Dean scrambled to grab the red file.

"Mary Winchester nee Campbell," Sam recited from memory, "Born to Samuel and Deanna, she belonged to the Campbell family, a family of hunters that goes back generations. When she met Dad she left the hunting life and cut all ties to her family and the hunting community in general. She was a formidable hunter, primarily working solo for all her hunts and only working as a group when absolutely necessary. She saved the lives of 4 hunters when she, her father and uncle took down a nest of 15 vampires to stop them from taking down the whole town. She single handily killed and exorcised hundreds of creatures between when she started hunting at 15 and when she settled down to raise a family. Her father and uncle, Samuel and Robert Campbell died during a failed hunt 3 months before she died, it was an ambush when the demon they had been tracking had friends, they took down no less than 7 demons before the other 4 got them. Mom had no idea that her uncle and father had died as word didn't reach her before the demon did. There's a theory that the demon that killed her was the same one that killed her father and uncle, the last true Campbells, in order to eradicate the hunting family."

There was a heavy silence while Dean, John and Bobby processed those words before Sam picked up the yellow file and moved on, "Right, there's more info about mom in the folder but you can read it yourselves later, this file contains everything me, Ellen and a whole team of hunters could gather on the 'yellow-eyes', otherwise known as the demon Azazel. We got this by interrogating dozens of demons, and yes we saved the hosts nearly 100 percent of the time, as well as witches, mediums, psychics along with a few of the older Vampires and Werewolves among other things. Now Azazel was a devout servant of Lucifer until the devil got 'shut in his box', I have no idea what that means but that is all that any of the demons could tell us about Satan himself, and Azazel is trying to get him out. He's trying to break 66 deals that will apparently free Lucifer and allow him to walk the earth."

"So 'yellow-eyes' wants the apocalypse?" Dean interrupted, mentally groaning at what their 22 year feud had pulled them in to.

"Basically," Sam sighed, "Now as for why he killed mom…he wants a general, to lead his army from hell to free Lucifer from the pit. We still can't work out who this general is but it has something to do with a number of children that he visited over the last 25 years. Every single child he visited had their moms killed on the ceiling of their room before being set on fire; I have no idea whether they have powers like mine but from the looks of things Azazel is hunting down psychics at birth, I have no idea why and where we all fit into this but his end goal is freeing Lucifer."

"Well, damn." Bobby sighed, massaging his temples to rid himself of the headache that Sam had just presented them with.

"Any accomplices?" John asked, hoping that they only had one incredibly powerful demon to deal with.

"Two." Sam groaned, "They are demons and they hang around Azazel and help him do his dirty work. I have no physical descriptions and they are both 'black-eyes' so we can't tell them apart from the rest."

Dean groaned, "You've only been back a few days and you're already scrambling my brain," He joked, "Family history, hell, even the damn apocalypse…what's next, angels and unicorns?" He slumped against Sam's shoulder.

"Well…" Sam started.

"Don't you dare." Dean growled.

"Seriously though, since Lucifer exists – and Lucifer is actually a fallen angel – that means that angels exists. Also there is half a ton of lore on them, not just Christian lore at that, dating back a few millennia at least, and my research on prophets says that they are either incredibly powerful psychics, which, given how many there actually are, is just unnatural or they are given their power, which is far more likely. So as far as I can tell, angels exist." Sam grinned.

"And unicorns?" Dean asked desperately.

"Don't exist." Sam answered promptly.

"Thank fuck." Dean sighed, "And why do I get the feeling that you're getting a kick out of this." He directed the last line to a grinning Bobby.

"It's amusing." Bobby replied neutrally, not even flinching at the filthy glare that Dean sent his way.

"Back on track guys." Sam interrupted before Dean could get violent, "We still have to track down the demon, kill him and his pets (and I think I may have an idea for that one), then hunt and exorcise any demons that want to start the apocalypse, and that's just to start."

"You're trying to kill me Sammy." Dean groaned again, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed.

"No I'm not and don't call me Sammy." Sam replied.

"Is your 'demon killing method' the Colt?" John interrupted suddenly, startling the other three hunters as he'd been quite quiet and they'd almost forgotten that he was there.

"Yes, how did you…you're tracking it too." Sam breathed in understanding.

"Yes, got it tracked down to within a few generations." John replied, reaching for his omnipresent journal.

"Wait wait wait, the Colt, you mean _the _Colt; as in, the gun that kills everything." Dean cut them off suddenly, looking like a teenage girl who had just met their idol.

"Trust you to know your weapons." Bobby grumbled.

"I wish I had a camera right now Dean, you look hilarious." Sam chuckled, causing the goofy grin on Dean's face to turn into a scowl.

Dean growled lowly and tackled Sam off the couch, John and Bobby let them mess around for a bit before grunting at them to grow up already and that they weren't teenagers anymore.

Sam huffed as he sat back onto the couch, Dean flopped down beside him, sending a cheery grin towards the two stern older men.

"Focus boys." Bobby grumbled, "We have a demon to track."

Sam and Dean nodded in sync as all focus went to back to the problem at hand; killing this demon.

"My latest sources say that the Colt's been in the possession of the Elkins family for a number of years." Sam added, "I have no idea whether it's still there or not but it's worth a shot."

"Good work Sam." Dean slapped his shoulder, "We going to get this thing or what?" He added to the rest of the men as no one made a move.

"It's still early, so we could make a start now. Not all of us need to go though so a couple of us should stay here at least – we can call for back up is anyone needs it." John agreed.

"I'll go, it'll be easier for me to go alone and ride there and back." Sam stood, ready to grab his weapons and head out.

"Whoa, wait a moment Sammy." Dean interrupted, dragging Sam back into his seat, "You just got here and now you want to leave? And there's no way that we'd let you go alone – who knows what else might be after the Colt."

Dean did make a valid argument but Sam wasn't the smartest in their family for nothing,

"Listen, Dean, given my abilities I am probably the best person to go alone; I have my bike, which is a hell of a lot faster to travel on than a car because I can use shortcuts and country roads you couldn't even fit down given how wide the Impala is, I have the pyro kinesis in case I get into trouble, I can turn on my incorporeal form for hours on end so I can't be injured and I have my flame animals as well. Dean, I will be fine, and if we want to get the Colt we will have to travel fast, like you said, who knows what else will be after it. I travel fast and light and I can handle a good deal of what they could throw at me; I am the best man for the job here."

"I hate it when you use my words against me." Dean muttered under his breath, knowing that he'd lost the argument, but Bobby and John could still stop Sam from going through with his inane plan.

"Fine." John sighed, seeing that his youngest was not going to back down, "But you will keep in contact and call us when you get there, when you get the colt and when you are on your way back. If there are any complications you call us and we'll back you up, don't just assume that you can handle everything they throw your way."

Sam nodded silently, throwing a reassuring look at Dean before standing up to collect his weapons and get changed – plaid was not the right wardrobe when travelling across America on a bike – he wanted to get going as soon as possible.

20 minutes later and Sam was dressed in leather with his weapons duffel clipped onto his back and his laptop and book bad slung across his shoulder, just brushing the top of his grey weapons bag, his helmet was tucked under his arm and he was staring incredulously at the object that Dean was holding out to him.

"That's a Glock." Sam remarked, staring at the black and grey gun in Dean's hands.

"Yes, it's a Glock Sam." Dean sounded more than a little exasperated.

"Your _custom_ Glock." Sam repeated, his voice laced with confusion and incredulity.

"Just take it Sam."

"You never go on a hunt without it."

"_Sam." _

Sam took the Glock and tucked in into one of the 7 different compartments hidden all over his Triumph; it took more effort and work to install hidden compartments on a bike but it was less likely to be noticed than on a car, not many people expected it and you could easily explain away the extra bulk as custom additions.

"_Now_ can I leave?" Sam grinned, fitting his helmet snugly over his head and making sure his gloves hadn't come undone.

"Just go ya idjit." Bobby called from over by the door where he and John had been watching the byplay between the two brothers with fond amusement.

Sam laughed, the sound coming out as oddly distorted under his helmet and fired up the Triumph, sending the black and red beauty roaring into life. He gave one last jaunty wave to his family before he pulled out of the yard, soaring through the rows of cars before veering out of the salvage yard and onto the road.

He had a 10 hour drive ahead of his to get to Manning where Daniel Elkins – last of the Elkins family and retired hunter – had set up shop; this was going to suck.

XXX

**And that is a wrap! Yes, I am moving this story ahead a little, no they are not going to take down Azazel very easily, that bastard is cunning if nothing else and even with the extra information Sam still doesn't know everything and if trying to come to conclusions based on the facts presented…you should see what I have planned for him next though….well I say next, in a few chapters and there will be some actual hunts from season 1 soon so look forward to seeing those! **

**Anyway, sorry that this is late and review please!**

**Tenebrae~**


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